As of two hours ago, I am officially done applying for college. Just in time for Christmas. It feels good.
For the first time in a long time, I had some downtime tonight. So I finished watching a documentary I started a week ago. It's called Tales From the Script. Anyone not interested in filmmaking would most likely be bored to tears.
Basically, the screenwriters who were interviewed talked about how cutthroat the industry is and how no one knows what they're doing. It was really funny and yet horrifying at the same time.
At the end of the movie, one of the writers talked about writing the film My Life. It starred Nicole Kidman and Michael Keaton and had to do with cancer. The movie got awful reviews and the writer was mortified and embarrassed.
However nine months after the release, a woman came up to him at a party and shared her story. Her husband had died of cancer, and her twelve-year-old son never talked about it. Then, she was diagnosed with cancer and had six months to live. She took her son to see the movie, and on the way home afterward, he sobbed. At home, he crawled into bed with her, and they had the conversation that she needed to have in order to leave the world.
So in retrospect, the writer wrote the movie for her. Unknowingly. And it was enough.
I think that's cool. And as I worked on my college essays about my passion in film, etc., it was easy to become a little discouraged. I made the short film A Dance in Time. It was a high school film - nothing extraordinary. But many friends of my grandparents, whom I would never have talked to otherwise, have approached me. Many older couples tell me how much they enjoyed the film. So I guess that is enough.
It still hasn't sunk in. But only three days until Christmas.
